Ashes Ashes
by hellboundhellhound
Summary: A war journalist. A soldier. An explosion. They all fall down...


**Ashes Ashes**

 _-Prologue-_

 _Things we lost to the flames_

 _Things we'll never see again_

 _All that we've amassed_

 _Sits before us, shattered into ash_

Fire was a mystery. It was always something men sought to understand, to control. It was men's obsession. Used in many texts, both religious and not, to represent hope as well as destruction. But fire was simply a force; a source of energy. It was neutral. It was men's doing that turned it one way or another. Like it was now...

Castiel thought this in morbid detachment as another explosion ripped through the building, shaking him to the core. The resulting fireball searing a layer of heat uncomfortably close to his skin; destructive. The burning sensation reminded him distinctly of that time when he was five and decided it was a good idea to stick his hand into a pot of boiling water just to see what happened. Shocking, surreal yet completely and utterly agonising once it sinks in. His right hand raised instinctively to shield him from the force of the blast that threatened to push him of his knees, heated rubble branding their marks into his palm forever.

A few minutes ago his ears were ringing with the sound of fire and screams; deafening and debilitating all at once. But now the silence of the aftermath and crumbling debris somehow seemed a lot worse. The putrid smell of what could only be burning skin and rubber, making him gag and his head spin. The odour, however, did serve to jolt Cas out of the smoky haze that was his mind, reminding him just why he was still here, surrounded by what might as well be hellfire, and not simply flying out of the exit a few metres away.

He looked wildly around, squinting through the suffocating smoke and pointedly ignoring the dark charred _human_ shaped lump curled on the floor nearby. His traitorous mind helpfully recognised the charm bracelet on the dead soldier's wrist. _Holt's gone_.

Fuck.

He had to pause a moment, covering his mouth to keep from hurling. There was no time.

"Dean?" He called out, hoarse voice seemingly lost in the smoke and heat that converged all around him.

 _Don_ _'_ _t be dead. Don_ _'_ _t be dead. Don_ _'_ _t be dead._

 _Please._

A cough followed by a curse.

Castle would have cheered if it wasn't so fucking hot. He cautiously picked his way towards the coughing, careful not to move too fast. At this point, he wasn't sure which was shaking more, him or the rapidly crumbling structure under his boots.

"Dean?" He called out as he crawled towards a pile of rubble in the corner, refusing to get too hopeful just yet. As he neared, he noticed a pair of booted legs sticking out from under debris. Whoever that poor bastard was, he must have been thrown by the earlier blast before a hunk of ceiling decided to make a pancake out of him. But the poor bastard was also a lucky one because the chuck of cement had possibly been the only thing shielding his person from the explosion's subsequent fireball. Cas could only hope that poor bastard was his.

He crouched down. "Dean? Is that you? Answer me."

"Fuck. No. Cas, get the hell outta here."

Oh thank God.

Ignoring his body's protests Cas grabbed the jagged edges of the fallen ceiling, stubbornly ignoring the pain that shot through his singed palms. He'd found Dean. Dean was alive!

Cas pushed futilely at the sturdy structure, cursing his lack of upper body strength and Dean's apparent fat and heavy behind while studiously avoiding looking at how blood was coating Dean's lips.

 _Punctured lung. Maybe worse. Fuck._

Growling in frustration, Castiel gave the offending concrete one last shove before stooping down. He grabbed Dean by his shoulder and the canvas handle that had been purposely sewn into the back of the bulletproofs vest, precisely for situations like this, and tugged.

"Cas, I'm stuck, you gotta leave, this place is coming down."

"No." Css ground out. Resolutely ignoring how a burning beam just fell down, not so far away. He really wished Dean would shut up and let the saving happen in peace. " I'm not leaving without you."

"You stubborn son of a bitch-"

"I'm not going to leave you here to burn Dean."

"Look, it's alright. There's not much to head back to for me anyway. It's not worth it-"

Typical. Dean runs his mouth while he does all the heavy lifting. Just typical.

"No."

"Why the fuck would you not just listen?"

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Fuck you Cas. Don't do this for me. Don't do this _to_ me."

Dean was scared. For him.

"Maybe later." Cas muttered distractedly with a grim smile, mostly out of habit. Something was wrong. There was blood on his hands that was slickening his grip. Where was it coming from? He lifted his hand, briefly touching the back of Dean's head. It felt damp and sticky and his hand came away a crimson nightmare. Damn it.

Gritting his teeth, Cas shifted his grip, one hand clutching Dean's shoulder and the other on the chafing strap of his bulletproof vest. He gave a mighty tug. Another. Suddenly, Dean was free. Good, now for the hard part. Pointedly ignoring how his now bloodslick palm had left a dark red handprint on Dean's uniform, he slung Dean's arm around his shoulders and started tugging him toward the exit.

He readjusted his grip, grunting from the strain and the smoke that seemed to blanket, well, everything at this point. Cas stole a glance down at his charge who was almost complete dead weight by now. After that, Cas refused to look down at Dean's face again. Or notice how its slackness and pallor looked a bit too much like death in the vermillion glow of the fire. Instead he resolutely pressed on toward the white speck of light that was the exit, never taking his eyes off it.

Almost there Dean, we're almost there...

He was practically dragging all 174 pounds of Dean now at this point. He couldn't do this damn it. Not alone.

"Dean, stay with me. I'm going to get you home, but I need you to help. We're going home to your brother. You're not going to abandon Sam are you? Sam! You promised to be back for his graduation remember? Come on Dean! Fight it!"

Dean perked up a little at Sam's name, grunting in pain but he took back some of his weight. Good.

Cas could almost smell the fresh cool air outside the door now. Just a few more feet. He could briefly make out the voices on the other side. Calling his name. And Dean's.

And that's when he heard it. The frightful sound of wood splintering like a scream right above him. Followed by the haunting groan of metal as it bent under the weight of the roof. He knew what that sound meant. No.

Completely on instinct, Cas shoved Dean through the whiteness of the exit. To safety. For a split second, relief coursed through his veins. Then the world came crashing around him. With it, fire, pain and blood.

But at the very least, Dean Winchester is saved. And Castiel is okay with that.

 **-TBC-**


End file.
